Rules of Engagement
by Jack of All Suits
Summary: ONESHOT. I Spy, tomatoes, and a lesson on the art of underhanded fighting. It's just another day on the Journey of Regeneration. Set on the way to Thoda Geyser.


**Wow, has it ever been a long time since I uploaded anything ToS related. Anyway, this idea's been brewing in my head for a long time- longer than I'd like to admit. Enjoy! And remember: Every time you forget to review, a puppy dies.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Tales of Symphonia. End of story.**

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The rules of engagement for swordsmanship were considered as sacred as the scriptures to those who lived by the blade. Honorable combat was respected by all, and it was expected, as one expects a handshake upon meeting, that the rules would be followed. In short, the guidelines to swordsmanship were fairly simple: participants attack using only the sword in their hand, and participants fight fairly and cleanly.

Being classified as a magic swordsman, Kratos Aurion theoretically broke both rules, however condensed they were, every time he fought. Using magic was technically using a weapon beyond just a sword, and against an opponent unable to reciprocate his attacks, it was considered an unfair advantage. His respect for the rules of engagement was paramount, but he understood that they were established more in favor of skirmishes and spars than actual conflict.

Mulling over things like that was something he partook in when nothing else served to keep his mind occupied. When the day was done and he had several hours before sleep or watch duty, there was very little to do that didn't try his patience. Occasionally he walked—particularly when they were visiting a large town—and drew himself a mental map of the location. If they were in the wild, he sometimes chatted with Raine until she began obsessively chattering over one artifact or another, or he sat with the Chosen and attempted to puzzle out her curiously high spirits.

Talking to Lloyd was similar to talking to a brick wall, in terms of intellectual content. Though the boy did have the benefit of several entertaining games (several were clearly invented by the three younger members of their strange troupe, while others were packed away in their various bags for times when boredom struck), any sort of conversation between them rarely ended pleasantly. Conflicting personalities, Kratos reasoned; Lloyd thought _he _was arrogant and _he _thought Lloyd was too emotional. The youngest member, Genis, he did his best to ignore for the most part. It wasn't difficult, given that the child scarcely reached his chest in terms of height.

In this particular instance, Kratos had faded out of the present as they walked the trail that led from Palmacosta to Thoda Geyser. It was high noon, he observed, and they had two days yet to trek if they continued at the leisurely pace they had established. The knowledge of the long trudge was not lost to the three youngest as they sat perched atop Noishe, for whom it was no great exertion to carry them, though he whined occasionally when his youthful riders maneuvered around on his back. Kratos was patiently waiting for the complaints to start, and the childish inquiries. By the Gods, if he was ever asked _"How much further?"_ again after this journey was over, heads would likely begin to roll.

"I spy with my little eye, something that is…" The Chosen One squinted as she looked around. "…White!"

"Noishe!"

"Clouds!"

"There _aren't _any clouds, Lloyd."

"Oh. Uh… Noishe!"

"I already said that!"

Despite vowing to himself time and again to stay out of those strange games they played, Kratos looked in the direction he had seen the Chosen squinting. Nothing white stood out in the field of tall grass at first glance but when he, too, squinted, he made out the faint outline of a rabbit. As they walked, Lloyd and Genis continued to guess incorrectly. The animal in the distance moved sprightly through the bramble of the field, and Kratos quickly asserted that it was, indeed, white. "A rabbit." He announced, shaking his head at the thought that his utter boredom had reduced him to juvenile games.

"You're nuts, Kratos, there aren't any rabbits arou—"

"Right!" Colette interrupted Lloyd, clapping her hands in such joy that Kratos felt distinctly unnerved, deliberately keeping his distance. "You're _good _at this game, Mr. Kratos!"

"Well, _I _don't see a rabbit." Lloyd groused, folding his arms with a huff.

Genis looked around and nodded. "Neither did I, at least, not until you pointed it out, Colette. You guys must have really good eyes to catch something that far off." The young elf (Feh, using the term very loosely indeed…) turned around to look at Kratos. "Your turn now!"

_His _turn? He didn't _want _a turn. "No thank you. Carry on without me." He said immediately, waving a hand dismissively. Of course, it was never that easy, was it? For some peculiar reason these children had latched onto him as a _friend_, and their grip was ever-tightening. Professor Sage suggested that he brought it on himself by participating in some of their odd little competitions (including a painfully memorable session of 'hide-and-go-seek'), though he certainly didn't think it accounted for such a frustrating level of companionship as this. Or perhaps it had been too long since he had traveled in a group and he was forgetting what connections could be forged through months of walking together.

"C'mon Kratos, you can't just guess right and leave it!" Lloyd wheedled.

"It's fun, Mr. Kratos!"

"Yeah, it passes the time, at least!"

He sighed wearily and ran a hand over the pommel of his sword, drawing some meager comfort from the gesture. "_Once._" He warned. "I spy something that is—"

"You gotta say it _right_, Kratos! Jeez, where'd _you _grow up?" Lloyd interrupted.

Kratos grit his teeth. "I spy _with my little eye_, something that is red." The red cardinal in question took flight almost immediately, evading the notice of the three youths as they took random guesses. He smirked at Noishe, who shot him a look he knew to be chastising, but they hadn't said anything about the chosen color belonging to a stationary object.

They continued for fifteen minutes in that fashion, and Kratos occupied himself by continuously denying their increasingly frustrated guesses. "You can give up at any time." He reminded them as innocently as he could while maintaining his appearance, fighting to keep his lips curled into a miniscule smirk. "You most likely won't guess correctly after this long anyway."

"I give up." Genis sighed at last.

"Me too." Colette forfeited.

Lloyd valiantly tried two more outrageous guesses ("_The trees are green, Lloyd!"_) before harrumphing anew. "Fine. What is it?"

"A red cardinal."

"_What_? There aren't any red cardinals around here!"

Raine glanced up from her book with a studiously blank expression. "There was about twenty minutes ago." She said plainly.

Kratos couldn't help but grimace when Lloyd yelled out aggressively. "_That's so cheating! _No more animals, they move too fast!" Yet another less-than-stellar quality about him, then: A sore loser.

They walked until the sun was only a few hours from setting, at which point they set up camp in a small grove of trees, which would be the last well-covered area until they reached the Geyser. Kratos took time to scout out the surrounding vicinity while Genis prepared supper using the fresh food they had taken from Palmacosta, and was content to see that there seemed to be no apparent danger. Besides one small group of rogue bandits that were bound to stay by the main road, thus avoiding their party entirely, and a pack of wolves several miles away, the place was deserted.

Supper turned out to be a dismal affair, in his opinion. Fish was acceptable, as was rice, until they were stuffed into tomato and presented to him. No amount of squeamish picking could make the thrice-accursed fruit look any more appetizing. Through diligence and silent suffering Kratos successfully managed to eat several of the larger chunks of fish and rice before meticulously spreading the remainder around his plate. Being strategically seated beside Noishe, he even took the liberty of offering bits and pieces to the arshis at opportune intervals of the conversation.

It came as no surprise that Lloyd was taking the less subtle approach and making a painfully loud point to clarify the intense loathing he felt for the food. Tomato was usually avoided during mealtimes, given that both swordsmen would sooner eat wild mushrooms. When it _was_ put in front of them, Kratos remained as silent and courteous as ever, but made a point to eat next to nothing and pushed his leftovers at Noishe instead. Lloyd took a similar route, excepting that he was less well-mannered and considerably more outraged.

"If you're hungry you should eat what you have, Lloyd." Raine cut into the heated argument between the two boys. "Kratos doesn't like it any more than you do, but he ate most of it." The swordsman in question hoped his face remained stony, even as he casually moved a boot to hide the tomato Noishe had dropped on the ground. He glanced at Lloyd, whose pursed lips hinted that he didn't appreciate Raine's interjection. Knowing the workings of their troupe as he did, Kratos closed his eyes and began to count backwards from ten.

"Well, still. Stop making tomato-y stuff." Eight.

"Tomato-y, Lloyd? If you don't like _my _cooking, do it yourself!" Five.

"Fine!" Three.

"Fine!" One.

"Kratos, do you wanna help me train?"

Ah. It was like clockwork.

The mercenary-cum-guardian looked up and made a point to dwell on his answer. Though he found Lloyd a difficult person to coexist with, their training sessions gave him a good outlet to teach the boy different strategies and skills that would hopefully keep him alive for the duration of their journey. In particular, Kratos had every intention of teaching him some less orthodox moves that certainly would never be found in a proper swordfight. "Yes, I suppose." He stood then, and followed Lloyd out of the clearing.

"I saw you feeding Noishe by the way." Kratos raised an eyebrow, releasing a light chuckle. He was impressed to see the young man was learning the art of observation. "So what the Professor said doesn't actually count."

They reached a suitable location and Kratos drew his sword, arm molding as always with the steel until it felt as thought it was merely an extension of his own body. "Oh really?" He said quietly. "I think it does." He watched Lloyd pull his own twin blades, and continued. "It's important to keep weaknesses to yourself. By complaining you exploit them."

"It's _tomatoes_, not something _important_." Lloyd shot back moodily, clearly perturbed that they weren't making any progress with the physical training. Another fault: The boy had no patience to speak of.

"No, but if you complain freely about your food, how long will it be before you complain about a weak knee," Kratos darted forward and flicked at Lloyd's defense with his blade, testing it. He skipped back. "Or a trick elbow?" He lunged again and they engaged in a quick scuffle. "You must keep all weakness a personal secret; otherwise you run the risk of discovery."

Lloyd sighed. "Enough _talking_ already." He charged forward, and Kratos lazily beat his swords to the side, backstepping at an infuriating relaxed pace as he continued to catch or dodge blows. He waited patiently for the right moment, and a small smile graced his visage in expectation of the result of his actions. When the time arrived, Kratos lunged forward, and his fist connected squarely with Lloyd's nose.

The boy staggered back and landed on his bottom, cursing and moaning as he held his face. "You _punched _be!" He howled. "Whad da hell habbened do Wules of Engagemend! Punching isn'd fair!" Kratos raised his eyebrows as Lloyd flipped onto his stomach and continued to groan. He hadn't meant to hit him very hard.

"The Rules of Engagement apply to honorable battles, typically in which the threat of death is not present." He said nonetheless. "In these battles, it's seen as bad taste to punch, or use magic, or any other underhanded methods. However," He stepped around Lloyd and kneeled beside him, trying to get a look at the damage. "In a battle where your life may be lost, the Rules of Engagement become more akin to _guidelines._" Besides a considerable amount of blood, Kratos doubted there would be any lasting harm. "The battles we engage in are such, and so exceptions can be made."

"Please dell be below da beld is sdill oud." Lloyd mumbled, now pinching the bridge of his nose as he sat up. "Dabbid Krados, I dink you bwoke id."

"Heh… er.." Kratos clapped a hand to his mouth to hide his growing amusement, and coughed away any possible laughter. "Yes, though if someone is about to impale you, I believe it would be understandable."

"Hab _you _eber…?" Lloyd glared when Kratos had to turn away, unable to keep himself from chuckling. "Wad're you labbing ad?! Dat _hurd_!" He planted a hand behind him to stay upright. "I'b gonna go ged Waine to fix dis." He growled.

"No." Kratos barked, turning back around with his face sufficiently devoid of emotion, besides a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "No, I caused the damage. It would only be fair to heal it myself." He crouched in front of Lloyd and laid a hand as gently as he could on his swollen nose. He drew the healing power to his palm and pressed it forward, feeling it mend the bone that had, indeed, been broken. However, before it was fully healed he pulled his hand away.

"Hey! It still hurts!" Lloyd whined, though thankfully his voice had lost the nonsensical nasally tone.

Kratos shrugged, still crouching on his toes. "If I healed you entirely you would forget the lesson. Better that you hurt for several days to let it sink in."

"Oh _really_?" There was no warning before Kratos staggered back, holding his own jaw this time. Clearly Lloyd had used his Exsphere to move faster than he could dodge at such a distance. Though it ached, Kratos let a rare grin spread over his face—how long had it been since he had been degraded to fist fighting? "You have _no _idea how good that felt!" Lloyd crowed.

Kratos stood then, flexing his jaw and grimacing slightly. "I should have known you would be even worse at fighting with your fists…" He said with a deliberately insulting tone. "No control. No precision. You act like landing one punch is reason to be proud." Which it was, frankly. Kratos was infamous for his ability to dodge.

Lloyd turned red and seethed, leaping to his feet. "Bring it on, then!" He barked.

"_What_?" Kratos looked at him with one eyebrow raised imperiously. "I'm teaching you to fight with a sword, not your fists. I was only giving a demonstration—resorting to blows can be saved for _real _battles, not our spars."

"What happened to you saying I should treat all our spars like a real fight? Hypocrite!" Lloyd was grinning as he flexed his hands anxiously. "C'mon! You said yourself that I'm worse at this than I am at sword fighting! What if I get cornered by a guy without my swords an' I have to fight my way out the old fashioned way?"

_You're screwed._ Kratos rebelled immediately at his mind's usage of Lloyd's childish term, and he only just resisted the urge to slap himself in the forehead. "Lloyd, boxing takes an extremely long time to learn. Unlike your swordsmanship, I would have to teach you the absolute basics before all else." He propped a hand on his waist.

"So what? We've got months of traveling left! C'mon!" Lloyd wheedled, looking pathetic with his nose still bleeding lightly. "Unless you don't even know _how_." Kratos narrowed his eyes at the deliberate barb, and once again his lips broke into a grin that made his young companion balk nervously. "Has anyone ever mentioned that you look _really _scary when you smile?"

By rights, it was useless to teach Lloyd to fight with fists. It was an ungraceful mode of conflict, and with a short temper like his, Lloyd was more likely to do himself harm than anyone else. Yet, at the same time, the boredom of routine sword training could grate even Kratos's age-old nerves, and it could be, dare he say, _fun._ "I'll do it," He said easily, still boasting the smile that was unnerving Lloyd. "_Rarely_, and only when you notably improve your swordsmanship. If you pester me about it, I will only put it off longer. Same goes for if you use fists in our sparring matches. Agreed?" He held out a hand.

Lloyd took it eagerly. "Agreed! That was a lot easier than I expe—_whoa!_" In one fluid motion, Kratos threw him over his shoulder and into a tree.

"Rule one: Don't give your opponent such an easy shot." He waited for his student to stand, groaning and holding his back as he did. Kratos brought up his fists with an expression of mild amusement. "Now, let's see how much you know already, shall we?"

Two hours later they returned to the clearing that the camp was set up in. Their three companions were huddled around the fire playing a card game, though it was quickly forgotten when Kratos and Lloyd limped in—Lloyd limped, Kratos merely held his shoulders to steady him. They both were sporting an array of bruises, though the red-clothed boy had clearly taken the brunt of damage.

All in all, Kratos had been impressed, though he would never admit it. Not only had Lloyd successfully landed half a dozen decent blows, but one had even induced his nose to bleed, and another had broken the skin on his lip. He deposited Lloyd on the ground beside Noishe before sitting down himself, looking up at the horrified expressions surrounding them with a studiously emotionless visage.

"What _happened_?" Raine finally demanded, rushing forward. "Were you attacked? Are there any more? Why didn't you call for help?!" He assumed her questions were directed at Lloyd, who grinned weakly and laid against Noishe, who hummed contently and licked the side of his face.

"Kratos… has a mean right hook." He finally announced, laughing brightly. "It's nothing Professor, seriously. Kratos was just showing me alterative fighting styles."

"_Alternative_, Lloyd. And it isn't _nothing_." Colette and Genis crowded behind Raine as she set to work healing and binding Lloyd's various scrapes and bruises. "Honestly, why would you want to _fist fight_ if you have _swords_?" She threw Kratos a pointed glare, but he looked away, focusing instead on healing his own small injuries.

Lloyd grinned again. "More fun?" He said sheepishly, inducing Kratos to chuckle from where he sat to the group's alarm. Though Genis and Colette quickly decided it wasn't anything serious, and began plying Lloyd for a play-by-play recollection of the lesson, Raine huffed loudly and slapped the back of her student's already-bruised head.

"_Boys._" She muttered.

Kratos leaned against a tree truck, still smiling faintly in amusement.

Boys indeed.


End file.
